


The List

by hoestreet



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Use, F/M, Heavy Angst, Jeronica, Minor Character Death, Weddings, barchie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 11:30:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoestreet/pseuds/hoestreet
Summary: No one pairing had ever hated each other more, and it was obviously just a huge comedic 'fuck you' from the world to make their best friends a soon to be wedded couple. Two huge, angry personalities clashing in a middle class venue is never a recipe for glitter and smiles, especially when surrounded by free alcohol and sickening love.But then, this movie style bad luck just seemed to follow the two wherever they ventured. Surely they knew that coming back to the root of where all their problems started was a bad idea.Wasn't it?





	The List

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this for ages and it's finally finished I can't believe lmao. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!!
> 
> Also, the summary is crap lmao I forgot I needed one and just made up some bull from the top of my head

Veronica knew what she expected of Betty and Archie’s engagement party. Like all things about the couple, she expected it to be perfect, first and foremost, which it obviously was. She expected there to be pink flowers in glass vases strategically placed around the room and arranged in perfect harmony, and she expected the pale pink table cloths to be flawlessly ironed and clear of the tiniest stains and she expected the couple’s outfits to complement each other to the best of their ability – Betty in a predictable pink skater dress with small ruffles stopping just above the knee and finished with her ‘party cardie’, and Archie in a smart black suit with a matching pink tie and eyes as bright as the venue. And all she expected was exactly what she was met with.

What she didn’t expect, however, was for a very familiar name to be brought up in desperate conversation as Betty tried to drop painfully obvious hints to her best friend about a man who left a bitter taste in Veronica’s mouth.

She was trying to set her up with her fiancé’s best friend, Jughead.

Veronica frowned slightly and pulled a face at the lady in front of her. She must say, Betty did have a skewed vision of life and how seemingly easy it was sometimes, by no fault of her own, but it existed anyway and sometimes it did drive Veronica a little crazy. She was just in utter confusion about how Veronica wasn’t in the same boat as her, how come she hadn’t found herself an attractive man to settle down with and how come they weren’t living in a little pretty house with the mortgage already nearly paid off at the young age of 25 and how they weren’t at her engagement party right now fingering the pink ribbons on the back of the chairs and sighing in soft contentment.

Veronica suspected that while Betty was a main protagonist in the capture of The big Riverdale Murders, the darkness she’d experienced in the world didn’t stretch further than watching drug businesses from afar and family members becoming serial killers (which when put into words actually sounded awful) when Veronica herself had been a part of a culture where she was partaking in drug use and people were _killing themselves_ because of her and her family’s existence and that was something that even after all those years of radio silence between her and her parents, she still struggled to get past without help.

Life was by no means easy for Betty Cooper (especially with Big Cooper doing all she could do be a handful in the most loving way), but it certainly didn’t toss her to the side and leave her to rot either. And somehow, even with her life being as hectic as it was in childhood, she still had this soft girl-next-door ignorance about her that Veronica kind of adored.

Veronica on the other hand…

Matters were worse now. She was at a party celebrating the engagement of one of her ex-boyfriends – her best ex-boyfriend – and the best friend who so happily stole said boyfriend from her. She’d always sworn to herself, since moving to Riverdale all those years ago, that people changed and she had to forgive and forget no matter what was done wrong. If everyone was still alive, then there should be nothing to worry about right? Right.

That didn’t push down the heaving bitterness at the bottom of Veronica’s gut, churning her lunch everytime she looked into her best friend’s eyes, shining with this authentic happiness and love that surely Veronica deserved after all these years. Obviously she couldn’t have Archie back, but what unfavourable sins had she really done in her life that deserved her to end up completely miserable?

She shifted from foot to foot and froze when the fleeting whiff of weed hit her nose. Her eyes shifted back to Betty who was too far in mid ramble for any of her senses to be working.

“…I’m just saying, you should be keeping your eye out. The right guy might be right under your nose,” Betty finished with an overly happy giggle that really should’ve sent Veronica insane but instead made her smile affectionately at her best friend’s positive attitude.

Veronica scoffed softly and started to shake her head but Betty put her hand on her shoulder and raised her eyebrow at her. Veronica liked to call it the Mama Cooper look, but it was a well-known that every Cooper in that house had the ability to pull the same face, even Chic.

“I know Chuck was awful beginning to end but that’s why I think you should look for someone new, save you letting your thoughts linger on him too much. He doesn’t deserve it.” Veronica shrugged and smoothed down her dress, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear; doing anything that made it appear as though she wasn’t uncomfortable with the current conversation. It was almost making her sweat trying to keep a straight face when distasteful (if there’s an easy way to put it) memories of Chuck were brought up to the forefront again. “And maybe the guy you need isn’t as new as you’d expect.”

Veronica frowned again, this time in question, and she looked up just in time to see Betty smiling across the room at Archie, who was talking to a guy with dark hair and an old grey beanie hanging casually from his back pocket. Betty turned back to her and Veronica rolled her eyes at the knowing look on her dear friend’s face.

“Bad idea.” Betty opened her mouth to say something and Veronica lifted a hand. “Bad idea,” she repeated, slower. Betty must know that the couple’s best friends hated each other’s guts. Just looking at him made Veronica frustrated; just seeing his mouth curl into a smirk at any given thing, and seeing him bringing that godforsaken beanie everywhere like it was his damn child, and seeing that stupid (not to mention fake) raven coloured hair that just flopped into his eye at the most inopportune times. Veronica didn’t even know how he was Archie’s best friend, being so different just appearance wise, but then Veronica suspected it was probably the same for herself and Betty. Yet she refused to affiliate herself with any crowd that resembled Jughead’s. Maybe she wanted what Betty had and was chasing after anything that remotely resembled boy-next-door-ish and normal. She chased that thought away and scowled at herself. No, Jughead just wasn’t likeable.

That was another lie though, obviously, as she took another sneaky glance at him to see him talking to a young woman and probably revelling in every blush he painted on her cheeks. He’d definitely changed since high school, the title of a womaniser somehow suiting him better now than the local loner ever did. The dark, mysterious ploy must really work for him she thought bitterly. And as much as she hated him, she couldn't deny him the fact that he was incredibly hot. That just made her hate him more.

“Not a bad idea at all. He’s got just as much bad luck as you in the dating department, maybe more,” she said, not realising Veronica visually bristle at her words. Not surprising as he probably bats his long eyelashes at every girl he walks past on dates Veronica thought, her agitation growing. “At least go on a date with him.”

“Betty Cooper, my dear friend, you and Archie have been nibbling at this rotten apple for years now. Let it go. It’s not like we haven’t already tried.” _More than once._

“One more time?” she asked hopefully.

Veronica crossed her arms and Betty rolled her eyes at her friend’s stubbornness fondly. “It’ll happen Ron,” she teased, turning to another one of her friends who was gushing about the silver on her left hand and giving her congratulations.

 _'Over my dead body'_ thought Veronica, shaking her head and stalking off, missing Jughead’s gaze of disbelief her way as Archie mentioned her name in his extremely short list of potential date prospects for him. He swore the couple did this every get together, working in cahoots to get the biggest enemies of 2018 together into a somehow healthy, functioning relationship.

“Archie,” he laughed. “Never in my life am I more disappointed in you than when you bring up her name thinking that for one second I’d consider it and we’d actually work.”

“Betty seems to think you’d work and I trust her judgement. I mean, she picked me.”

Jughead pretended to retch. “I’d be careful with what you say, Arch, you don’t want me throwing up all over your perfect jamboree.”

Archie pushed him lightly with his shoulder. “I’d have to charge you. These flowers alone cost the rest of my wages for the next ten years.”

He wasn’t surprised that Archie was successful; he came from a class of people that ended up being somehow successful no matter what walk of life they chose. He was a little surprised that he turned his back on both music and football and turned to work as a PE teacher at a private school instead, but it definitely worked out for him and Jughead, being the silent supporter he was, knew that from the start.

He must say though, he never saw himself in his mind’s eye standing where he was now, chirpsing girls (and royally fucking it up with each and every one of them in a cool, almost acceptable sort of way. Even self-depreciating him knew that this wasn’t a fault of his own, and the only thing he was failing at was choosing awful people to begin with), shooting cupid’s bow around the room and winking at ladies with his hair flowing free and his safety blanket tucked securely in his back pocket. In a quarter of a million-pound venue, for that matter. Surrounded by people who still had enough money to completely annihilate his financial self-esteem, but instead of cowering away from them he shone his million-dollar smile to make it appear as though he was somehow kind of in a social class near enough to his peers where it isn’t totally embarrassing for them to associate with him.

I mean, Jughead was even sure the flowers they were looking at were on a higher rung of the social ladder than he was, but he ignored it. In a place like this, confidence was all he had to offer. He wasn’t 16 anymore. He couldn’t hide under an antisocial frown forever. His new umbrella was a shadow of mystery and the superman curl that he didn’t mean to sport so avidly but also wouldn’t go away.

They laughed and Jughead let out a deep breath. He was okay with mingling, meeting new faces and learning about new people – a nice new and surprisingly helpful skill he learnt at university – but he was having a little trouble adapting to this setting. He kept telling himself it was because of how posh and extravagant everything around him seemed to be, but he knew that it was because of the suffocating atmosphere of sick love in the air. Something he always had trouble with. It was safe to say, he hadn’t felt this out of place since his year 11 school dance.

“Seriously though man, you can’t step out of the dating game just because of the last girl you were with. I just don’t want you to get left behind.”

“Not everyone gets engaged at 25 Arch. In fact, most people are still finding their feet at 25,” Jughead stated, though that was a small fear in the back of his head, slowly getting bigger and bigger. He was torn between not wanting to be alone forever, and not wanting to pick someone who would send him into a downwards spiral of depression and alcohol like his father. He guessed that this was his version of the infamous quarter-life crisis. He was struggling to find someone who liked him for the whole of him. And his past him. And his potential future him. He turned and plucked a glass from the platter a waiter was holding as he sashayed past and swallowed the contents in almost one go. His mind needed to be more fluid for a conversation like this.

“You’re not doing either,” Archie pointed out, eyebrow raised. “You’re just dawdling.”

“I am not dawdling,” Jughead retorted, somewhat offended. “I’m simply taking my time.”

“What are you avoiding Jug?” he asked quietly, and honestly, that one had Jughead stumped. Even if he wanted to tell Archie what was bothering him so much about this whole dating idea, which he didn’t because he was a traitor and would most definitely tell Betty, he couldn’t, because he had no idea. At the moment, spending time around someone constantly, talking to them and keeping them happy and making an effort all sounded like it took up a lot of energy that Jughead didn’t have for himself, let alone someone else.

When it all boiled down to it, Jughead hadn’t actually changed at all. He still preferred his own company and loathed change. He’d been alone for so long that maybe the thought of genuine commitment maybe even terrified him a little bit.

“Nothing, I’m just taking a well-earned break.”

Archie narrowed his eyes sceptically. “What about Ronnie?” he asked.

Jughead rolled his eyes at just her name. She filled him with so much unnecessary irritation and he couldn’t fathom why people still brought up her name around him, as if they were expecting a different reaction one day. How could his mind change when it came to the high and mighty brat. “What about her?” he asked, refraining from snapping.

“She’s single,” Archie said idly.

“Not surprising.” Archie raised his eyebrows and Jughead rolled his eyes again, so hard he feared they might fall out his head. “No. never. There’s are spectrums, Arch, and we’re on two completely different ones.”

“You could look at it that way,” he started. “Or you could look from the other side and see that you’re both the exact same, smack bang on the same point.”

Jughead rolled his eyes again.

“If I could find the tiniest particle of sense in that analogy you know I’d celebrate it, right? Put it this way, I could write a 10 book collection on how much that woman grates my nerve,” he offered, grinning.

“Romantic.” Archie chuckled.

Jughead let out a dramatic exhale and let his eyes wander til they fell on her again. “Really, no. No way. You and Betty are just sick, twisted people. I feel like you just want to watch us battle to the death.”

“You’re so extra.”

Jughead shrugged. “I thought you loved me man. I thought I was your best bud. Turns out you actually want me dead.”

“No Jug, I want you happy.” Wow. This conversation was more dramatic than the theatrics he wrote about at home.

“I’m perfectly capable of being happy on my own Arch. But thanks for your concern.” He stepping over to the next table and swallowed down another drink, mind not fully comprehending that it wasn’t his before the alcohol was gliding down his throat.

“See, now your closing yourself off from me. What is actually so bad about the girl? I have never got it.”

“Bet Betty would never ask Veronica this,” Jughead muttered, just saying her name making his frown deepen ever so slightly.

Archie continued to look at him with wide innocent eyes and Jughead felt a sudden urge to pull the beanie from his back pocket, yank it over his eyes and return back to his dad’s old empty rotting trailer like he used to every time someone used to pry too far down.

“I’ll make you a list,” he stated, pointing at Archie with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, ignoring the feel of bile rising in his throat.

“I want it in writing,” Archie laughed, shoving his mate with his shoulder.

“Buy me a round of shots and a notepad and we’ll see,” Jughead shot back, tone light, eyes shining as he battled discreetly to keep his breathing straight.

Archie knew his friend was probably lonely, and he knew for a fact that he suited Veronica with a sort of fierceness where it would be unethical to not make them see it for themselves. But he also knew Jughead was ugly stubborn, so he ignored it for now and loped after his friend with only one quest left in his mind.

Get absolutely paraletic.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jughead was drunk. Not nauseatingly so, but enough to decline a milkshake from Pops – even though it was his first time stepping foot in the place in near 6 years – for fear of vomiting all over the checkered floor. He always worried about turning into his dad, but he could relate to him more than he’d ever want to admit as stepping foot in Riverdale just made him want to down a bottle of absinthe and happily succumb to a warm, fuzzy death. He wondered just how cosy a wooden box buried under thick soil felt to the conscious mind and was actually very tempted to find out first hand.

He was here, appreciating the fact that Archie and Betty wanted to throw their party in the town they met and grew up together in and got together in and whatever else the cheesy pair of fuckery did here for the first time. But he couldn’t appreciate the fact that the stupid town still held the painful atmosphere he ran so quickly from soon as he graduated high school. There were a lot of memories here, most of them dark ones, and they couldn’t sit right with him when he was basically lounging in the graveyard where he attempted to bury them all. Out of Riverdale, he could pretend to be confident, happy, normal even, but once he was back here all of that development went out of the window and he was back to being a scared little boy.

He grimaced. His beanie was back on his head. He couldn’t last two minutes in the dreaded town without the dumb thing.

It was early morning and the town bar Pop was fast asleep. It had been a silent day, the awkward filler between the barchie get-togethers that Betty had organised, and Jughead was requested to attend all of them, being the prospective best man and metaphorical brother to Archie, husband to be. And this silent day proved to be quite difficult and ended up with Jughead drunk before 10am hit, bumbling around his dad’s sinking trailer with his laptop and agonising writers block. Now it was 3am and his drunken lull was laced with various different stages of hangover, so he felt no better. Archie and Betty were probably wrapped up in each other’s arms on a bed that was bigger than Jughead’s apartment, all disgusting and content. Veronica had probably brought out an entire hotel and bottomless alcohol to take up refuge for the few nights they were down there, just as disgusting but probably not equally as content. And here he was, extremely content and buzzing from tequila, avoiding the Whyte Wyrm like the actual plague, a piece of crumpled lined paper in front of him and a blunt pencil in his hand trying to come up with viable reasons for why him and Veronica just wouldn’t work. It was the only thing his brain has focused on for more than two minutes all day. And he still hadn’t written anything substantial.

 _She was stuck up_ he’d started with. And _she wears fucking velvet_. That was all he’d come up with in the 46 minutes 35 seconds he’d been sitting there, in the booth he always used to retreat to. He’d been counting. He wanted more to drink.

He brought the bottle of tequila to his lips and took a healthy swig, scrunching up his face as it went down and almost gagging on the burn. He should really be used to that by now, but tequila was a dear luxury he only brought when he had the spare cash. Usually, some cheap wine or not so cheap but better tasting sourz was his go to poison.

 _Her hair is a dumb length. Too long to be edgy, too short to pull_.

He leant back, finding himself unable to think and concentrating more on the alcohol he could feel pulsing down the veins in his arms, warm and electric and really fucking fulfilling.

“You alright over there Jug?” called Pop and he just raised his thumb and shot him a dumb smile. If there were many other people in the restaurant he was sure the older man would’ve had to ask him to stop drinking, but there was no one else around and Jughead had been Pops most loyal customer back in the good old days. He couldn’t kick out the poor guy out, he didn’t have the heart, so the best he could do was sit and watch him morph into his father.

 _She never wears flats or anything bloody comfortable like ever_.

Jughead was sure his writing was becoming intelligible but he didn’t care. Not in his drunken haze where nothing mattered and everyone was going to end up inevitably dead anyway.

He groaned loudly and sunk his head into his hands, his fingertips sliding under his beanie, his eyes shutting tight.

“You sure you’re alright Jug?” came Pops voice again. Jughead made an unintelligible noise of positivity and slammed his forehead onto the table. His hands were curling up into half fists, his nails scratching at the table in a feeble attempt to ward off the pain in his stomach that he wished was caused by alcohol poisoning, and not just the chronic pains his mind conjured up when he fell into such dark holes.

 _She's got too much money_.

He knew, somewhere, in the back of his blurry mind, that that comment made no sense but he stuck with it anyway because drunk Jughead, nor sober Jughead, was a quitter. Just like he wasn’t quitting this list, and just like he wasn’t quitting hating veronica for _seemingly no reason_.

And speak of the devil, said woman for some reason made an appearance to the small town diner at half 3 in the morning requesting a cup of hot chocolate and letting her dark, wealthy eyes sweep over the rest of the room till they met the beanie clad head laying on the table in some type of deep despair.

Her blood was warm. And her skin was tingling. And her eyes took a small while to stop oscillating when she’d stopped moving them, but that didn’t mean she didn’t not see him. In fact, she saw him quite clearly, he was almost brighter than everything else in the room despite his dark attire and ability to stay hidden, and she stood still for a second trying to think of what to do. She was going to leave, forget she ever saw his struggling frame sitting in the booth all alone, body trembling with the rush of alcohol, when he lifted his head and saw her curious gaze. And scowled. And scrawled something onto the paper in front of him.

 _She’s dumb nosy_.

And dumb gorgeous.

He growled at himself for letting that intrusive thought even surface into the conscious part of his brain and swore under his breath, nails digging into the fabric of the chair.

She watched him as he looked back up at her with a steely glare. She wanted to leave, take her drink and scamper from the dark look Jughead was shooting her as he obviously didn’t want her presence, anyone’s for that matter, but she couldn’t help but notice that he had a nearly drained bottle of tequila on the seat next to him, and that his eyes were red and unfocused, and that his hair was messy and he looked scrawny and it was half 3 in the morning and he was writing random notes on a single sheet of paper in the dim light and that his godforsaken beanie was back on his head. He hadn’t worn that beanie in 5 years. It wasn’t exclusive knowledge that Jughead’s beanie had symbolistic value, and that the fact that he had it on was probably bad news. Not to mention the poison running through her body had given her an unhealthy amount of positive confidence, so much so that she almost forgot she was supposed to hate him.

The way that she was able to turn his mood so sour gave her the best eye to pinpoint the exact millisecond it switches, no matter how much he’s trying to hide it, and she saw the switch from mild annoyance to intense frustration like a blinding light.

“Are you alright Jughead?” she asked, approaching him slightly cautious, slightly friendly, slightly curious, pushing her hood off her head and drumming on the top of the chair with fingers that couldn’t stay still.

“Why do you care?” he spat. He wasn’t hiding anything today.

She nodded and sucked the inside of her gum, shrugging. “I don’t to be honest.”

“And for the record, I’m fucking peachy. Right as rain.” He frowned, clutching the pencil tight in his fingers as he added _really fucking nosy_ to the list.

He watched her slide into the booth opposite him, eyes flickering down to the paper then back up to him in question but he just played dumb and pretended not to notice.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

“A list,” he answered shortly.

“On what?” she asked, knowing he wasn’t going to offer any extra information.

His lips curled into a smirk. “On what,” he repeated, laughing and pointing his pencil at her, blunt, leaded end directed between her eyes. “Reasons to hate you.”

He was honestly expecting a slap or some sharp words, but when he met Veronica’s eyes his facial expression was basically mirrored back at him, a bitter smirk twisted on her face as her eyes darted back down to the paper. They were even darker now, complementing her dark hair even more than usual, and full of some emotion that he struggled to read. And when he looked closer he realised how big her pupils were, almost taking out her irises. She was high.

Looks like he wasn’t the only one who’d rather chance it with death than be stuck in this town sober.

“Betty has been trying to set me up with your son of a bitch ass all day,” she stated, a wicked lick to her tone. “And all yesterday.” Her tongue darted out of her mouth like a snake. In some sick way it drew him in more.

“Why do you think I’m writing this?” asked Jughead, lifting the paper. “So has Archie.”

“I wanna read it,” she said, reaching out to grab it from him. He leant back, polishing off the last of the tequila and stood up, pushing some notes towards Pops (even though he didn’t buy anything), leaving swiftly. Veronica was hot on his tail, watching as he tossed the empty bottle into a bin, her hot chocolate still inside in Jughead’s booth. Untouched.

“I’ve got shit to add,” she demanded.

“Make your own list, scutter,” Jughead shot back.

“I’m not the scutter here,” Veronica said quietly, the words leaving a horrible smell in the air that reminded Jughead just why he hated her.

“Anyway, this one is far from done.” Her eyes narrowed and she plucked the paper from his hand before he even had time to react, pulling an expensive fountain pen from her bag and leaning on the side of Pops. He struggled to understand where along the line exactly, she stole the paper and started writing, too fucked up to care or comprehend. “You’re obnoxious,” she said out loud, eyebrows knitted together, words falling from her mouth in a manner more clumsy than her usual enunciation. “And you’re a gang member, and you wear stupid ugly leather jackets and you ride an awfully out of fashion motorbike.”

“Ex-gang member,” Jughead added in and Veronica just shot him a dirty look.

“And you called me a scutter,” she said, her voice rising.

“So did you? And son of a bitch, if I recall correctly.”

“Your dad’s a criminal.”

“You come from a whole litter of criminals.”

She spun around to look at him properly. “They aren’t my family.” She spat. “And what they partake in isn’t a crime Jones, it’s a hustle.” There was the lingering thought that that statement would’ve left Jughead creasing if it hadn’t been paired with such a sharp tongue and a pungent aftertaste.

So he just glared at her.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say, the alcohol taking its toll on his limbs and earning Veronica a soft, fuzzy outline, where for a split second, if he moved too fast, it would appear that a thousand Veronica’s were burned into his retina. _What a world_.

He watched her as she pointed the end of her special pen at him, one cartridge of ink in it probably costing his whole month’s rent, and watched as her mouth moved, as her eyebrows knitted together in frustration and how her head was slightly cocked to the side. Her words were bouncing around in his eardrums, unnecessarily loud and echoic but they made no sense to him. It was just a buzz of noise.

Her eyes were reflecting the streetlight they were stood under, a fierce white light framed by dark irises and even darker hair, skin smooth and illuminated in the soft dusk. Somewhere in the background of his mind, he knew that Veronica was still ticking off her frustrations and growling under her breath, stumbling over her words (Veronica Lodge doesn’t stumble) and coming up with daft reasons just so she has more than Jughead but he wasn’t listening. His drunken mind could only concentrate on one thing at a time, and at this moment it was trying (and failing) to fight two sides, one advocating for how on earth was he only just now realising Veronica’s sheer beauty, sophisticated and dark and alluring, and the other just screaming no. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that Veronica was a very pretty lady, but she was also filled with a lot of very pretty malice that Jughead didn’t find so pretty. For his intoxicated brain to suddenly find her hot was both a shock to his system and the beginning of a chain reaction to push her as far away from his life as possible.

Now he understood what Archie meant when he said women were hottest when they were mad. Veronica was absolutely stunning in the pool of light the streetlamp served, framed by a dirty twilight and the peeling paint on the wall of Pop’s. He hated it.

Her mouth was moving, spewing shit he didn’t care about. He was just thinking about her lips, how they moved when she voiced such ugly words, how they’d look around certain other appendages of his and how much he all of a sudden wanted to kiss them. And it was either kiss her or slap her.

So he chose the most viable option.

That sure shut her up.

This was the second time in the night he expected Veronica to slap him. He didn’t think for a second that she’d let him place his hand on her jaw and pull her into him, other hand leaning on the wall, both barricading her in and serving as some sort of comfort that Veronica was adamant she’d never receive.

Years of memories came flooding back to the both of them, intimacy unbeknownst to the world making its comeback as the two’s mouths connected in some sort of hurried frenzy, taking them back to when they were kids and needed the comfort of another broken body to deal with their mutual heartbreak. She tasted both bitter and sweet, like pills and the liquor she drank to down them with, and the angst was just as strong as it was all those years ago.

The reminisced images would’ve made Jughead blush profusely if he could think about anything else but Veronica’s fingers as they danced under his shirt and traced the top of his V-line.

He didn’t think that he’d ever be caught dead kissing the Veronica Lodge again at stupid o’clock, just before the rising sun, with her back pressed flush against the wall of the building he spent most his teen years, and his body pressed flush against hers.

But then again, he never did do much thinking when she was around.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jughead was drunk again. It was the first thing Betty noticed when she walked in. She could smell it on his atmosphere and she could see it in his actions, in the way he sluggishly led her into the living room and threw himself onto the sofa with his laptop and a bottle of sourz on the floor. Empty.

He’d steered clear of the trailer on the third day, instead staying in a small cheap motel on the edge of Greendale. He knew that doing this would take a nice chunk out of his monthly budget that he’d need for unnecessary luxuries like food and heating later on in a few weeks but he reckoned low intensity starvation and hypothermia was a little better than severe heartache, PTSD flashbacks and panic attacks.

He'd managed a couple hours in that place after Pops before he decided he couldn’t stomach it any longer.

Then he started thinking about his dad, lying unmoving on the sofa, head back and silently choking on the poison he’d thrown back when still conscious; and attempted to get flat-out drunk. Attempted, because he could only afford one bottle of sourz and while it was enough to get him well past giddy on an empty stomach, it wasn’t enough to knock him out completely or even get him off his face. What a fucking shame. He was somewhat hoping to end up like his father.

Which landed him in the position he’s in now, hearing a knock at the door and leading Betty through dingy rooms that his prideful mind would surely feel embarrassed of sober.

No wonder his dad was always sloshed in that god forbidden trailer.

Betty sat down on the sofa seat opposite him and Jughead wondered why she was here, looking around the room sceptically. 25 years living in pristine conditions no matter where she went made her an unintentional snob but he tried not to think about it – he knew she was far from one dimensional but he also could no longer see past the avid perfection like he used to be able to. He briefly wondered if Archie could, but then remembered his friend came from a situation he liked to called ‘cute poverty’ and realised that he probably had the same mind-set as his blonde counterpart.

He thought for a second whether Veronica had told her about their kiss the other night, but was reassured, remembering that she was as stubborn as him and admitting that she let him kiss her _and_ kissed back would mean that Betty and Archie had officially won.

And they haven’t.

“So I saw Veronica yesterday. At 5 in the morning.”

So maybe he was wrong. Fuck

“She was high as the moon and acting weird and I’m worried about her. She wouldn’t tell me why. And then she mentioned your name.” her mouth curled into a sly smirk. “I mean, she only mentioned seeing you, and that was it, but whatever. She wouldn’t mention you unless something relevant to her notice happened. So, what did happen?”

Maybe he wasn’t wrong. Thank the fucking gods.

“She just went to get coffee or something. I dunno.”

“Was she acting weird?”

“She was high so probably.” He mumbled with a shrug. He played with the toothpick on the table in front of him and snapped in half slowly. It was taking him longer than he’d like to admit to string together his sentences, and he was half focusing on fighting the stupid drunk smile making a badly timed appearance on his face. “I was slightly under the influence.”

“You were drunk?” Betty raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “So you’re telling me that you were drunk yesterday, you’re drunk today, and at our engagement party, Archie told me you were knocking them back like Alexander the Great. What’s up with you Juggie?”

Yet another aspect of his Great Riverdale Past came back to haunt him as Betty’s pet name for him slipped out of her mouth and he felt the bile rising in the back of his throat. An unwelcome burn spread over his skin and he fought the strong urge to shiver violently at the plague starting at the base of his spine. “Nothing is wrong Betty, I’m just enjoying my time here before I have to go back to the monotony of real life.”

His voice came out way sweeter than he played it out in his head. It wasn’t Betty’s fault. Nothing was ever her fault. While he wasn’t fond of the monotony of normal life like he said, he’d knowingly missed out the part where he’d happily take monotony over this dump of a weekend. He had one more social gathering to get through before he could gratefully ride his motorbike into the sunset and away from the root of all of his nightmares.

“Are you sure?” she asked, pulling this face that just made him want to spill all his secrets about the town shrouding him in depression and barchie suffocating him and Veronica still being his main point of irritation (and confusion), but he bit his tongue and smiled dumbly. The alcohol hadn’t made him that truthful. In actual fact, he’d sobered up a lot more than he wanted to and now he just felt groggy and bitter.

“I’m positive Betts. You should probably get back to Archie now. You only just got engaged, you can’t start ditching him already,” he teased. “Though I do see why you’d want to.”

Betty laughed. “Forget Archie,” she jokes, waving her hand carelessly. “We have another shindig tonight. I’m going to get ready in a bit.” She looked him up and down and he heard the silent ‘and so should you’.

She got up, and Jughead got up too, following her to the door where they said their goodbyes. As soon as the door shut Jughead was letting out a long breath, suddenly drained, with a nagging thought at the back of his mind that Betty didn’t believe him and was going to send Archie to deal with him and his seemingly endless problems. Betty might have more charm, but Jughead found it virtually possible to lie to Archie. Something about them being best buds since kindergarten guilt tripped the guy into spilling the deep red truths on all his little white lies.

Another little problem was that the bring up of her name had sent his bored yet imaginative brain into overdrive, and long-boxed up images of the past were once again arising; one in particular of Veronica kneeling before him, mouth full and eyes innocent as he scrunched up her hair in one hand got a rise out of him in more ways than one and he swallowed thickly.

Betty had telepathically urged him to get ready for their second get-together, but instead Jughead found himself sitting on the sofa, jeans around his ankles and jerking himself off to visionaries of a cat-eyed, raven haired princess with the groan of her name and beads of sweat pooling around the back of his neck.

He felt sick.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Veronica was sitting in a booth at Pops when Archie found her. She’d originally been sitting in the booth that she used to find Jughead in, but then decided that the air in that area was too hostile and thick and moved to a different seat, this one behind the door so she couldn’t see who was coming in every time the bell chimed and didn’t feel inclined to look up (to make sure it wasn’t _him_ ).

She didn’t know why she was here. Maybe it was because the last time she was here, she was greeted with an intense amount of comfort, one she’d never become acquainted with before in her life, and had returned with some sort of unconscious certainty that coming back would bring back that feeling. Or maybe she was just hoping to bump into a certain someone.

She hadn’t so far, nor had any feelings returned. No, instead she’d been staring out of the window at the exact spot her and Jughead were standing, how his lips felt on hers and how his thumb stroked her rib and how his fringe fell between her eyebrows. She didn’t know why it was on her mind so much; she’d had plenty of meaningless in-the-moment kisses and she knew he had too, but she couldn’t take her mind off it, couldn’t stop drifting into what the night could’ve been if she didn’t break it off and walk 40 minutes to the hotel she knew Betty was staying at instead of riding him back on his bike and carrying on the night under a roof that wasn’t stars.

That’s why she didn’t notice him until he was sat opposite her with his head leaning to one side in a questioning look. She was half hoping it was Jughead but any such luck. The hands placed awkwardly on top of the table didn’t hold enough grace to belong to the New York writer.

“Did Betty send you?” was the first thing that came out of her mouth, completely disregarding any greetings, tired and wanting to get straight to the point. She didn’t want to be rude, but she wasn’t in the mood for Archie or his almost faux feelings of concern at the moment. Her comedown was particularly harsh today and it seemed she’d have to up her normal dosage to fatal levels to get over what she ingested yesterday so she didn’t even bother, opting for a simple blunt instead.

“Out for food, yeah. Then I saw you here all alone.” His words were curious more than worried but Veronica passed it off as him still somehow being blissfully unaware of the harshities of the world. He may have been prayed on by a sexual predator and failed it with every girl in the town when he was younger but Veronica was bitter and the darkness in her vision stopped her from seeing beyond his white picket fence family and golden brown guitar.

Veronica shrugged. “Even New York girls need peace and quiet."

“What from?” Archie asked, leaning closer. The strong smell of weed became apparent when he moved forward and he looked up at her with a raised eyebrow that told her he knew. She didn’t provide an answer for it though, instead carrying on with the conversation at hand.

“People, places.” She sighed deeply and raised her eyes to meet his for the first time. He opened his mouth in silent shock when he saw they were red and watery, but didn’t say anything. “He wrote a list.”

It came out before she had chance to stop it.

Archie’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Internally, veronica swallowed thickly, painfully aware that it was 2 seconds into the conversation and she’d already said too much. This being said, she couldn’t stop the rambling flow of words tumbling past her lips. “I-I mean, that isn’t normal is it? To write a list about why you don’t wanna date someone? Isn’t it a bit extra or am I just thinking too deep into this?”

“Jughead?”

Her eyes snapped up at the mention of his name. “What about him?” she asked weakly, as if covering what she’d just mentioned.

“He wrote the list?”

She thought about lying but realised she’d basically told him anyway, so she just nodded silently. She didn’t want to look up again, so she traced the slight carvings in the table’s surface instead.

It was silent for a minute or two, or it could’ve been ten, Veronica honestly couldn’t tell, but she stayed perfectly still and quiet and allowed Archie to process what she’d just told him while she wallowed. She’d never felt like this towards another man before, completely smitten, sick to the stomach and unable to find the right words to convey feelings, and it made her feel ill. She’d been around Jughead two days and already he was able to make her feel like this again, just like when they were teens fucking around in his trailer. _Only worse_.

Her mind brought her back to all sorts of memories with him, in bed, making breakfast, at Pops, when they bickered, when they had that huge falling out and Veronica’s heart somehow hurt even more than it did now, and felt bigger as it rested on her larynx. She took in a deep breath and shook the thought away before it consumed her.

At last, the best he could come up with was “I’m sorry Veronica.” Which she felt to be rather pathetic, considering he may as well be paying rent to live in Jughead’s brain with the way the two knew each other, but she didn’t comment on it. Maybe it was better to have some feeble apology, instead of the complicated explanation she was hoping for. She wasn’t so sure if the truth was something she was ready for.

“No biggie.” She tried to laugh but it came out all strangled. She hardly knew what the problem was here. Her and Jughead had never really seen eye to eye, quite literally, even her tallest pair if heels fell short about 3 inches. And it wasn’t like them to ever share as much passion as to go at it missionary, like they actually were capable of feelings after their ex significant others found better toys in the box.

But that was an obvious lie. She felt all manner of feelings. She just didn’t know it then. She didn’t understand them then. Young and naïve.

“I told him to do it as a joke.” He snorted. “I didn’t think the bastard would actually do it.”

She raised her eyebrows and swallowed again, leaning her head to one side. “I guess he just really wanted to make sure we…you got the message.”

“You like him don’t you?”

Veronica laughed out loud. “I think he’s a dick,” she declared, dodging the question and leaning her elbow on the table, looking out the window, resisting the huge urge to sniff. “A huge one. With shrivelled balls and a spotty head. A huge dick.”

“Descriptive,” Archie observed, laughing and touching her shoulder gently. “Maybe you should be the writer.”

“Sure as hell got shit to write about,” Veronica said, amused. “Maybe I should write a fucking list.”

Archie winced at the bitterness in her voice and glared out the window. He didn’t know where along the line Jughead stopped pulling him out of shit and they swapped places, but he wasn’t enjoying it at all. Especially since Jughead’s shit was a whole lot more loaded than his usually was.

“Have you spoke to him about it?” he asked dumbly, as if they were still in year 9 talking about relationship troubles.

Veronica pulled a face. “Have you spoke to him at all since we’ve been here? No one will ever catch that bastard sober.” She shook her head and dabbed at the skin under her eyes again, taking in a deep breath. “Well, I’m off. I’ll see you later Archiekins.”

She shot a bright smile in Archie’s direction and he watched her leave, brows furrowed at her words, barely noticing when she squeezed his shoulder on the way out. He didn’t really know what should be taking up the capacity of his brain first, what he should try and process first, and he ended up sitting in the booth for a lot longer than intended.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“A list Jughead? Are you kidding me?” Archie frowned down at his friend, taking a seat next to him. This gathering was slightly less mature than the first, less professional and sophisticated and less money spent. It meant that Archie could take a breather and his wallet could grab a quick rest. It meant that Jughead could knock them back faster while it was still socially acceptable. It meant Betty’s smile didn’t have to be stretched so tight across her face. It meant that Veronica could carry on being the avid pill-popper she was while slipping under the radar.

Jughead looked up from his phone in confusion. “What?”

“You wrote a list about why you hate Veronica?”

Jughead opened his mouth and then shut it again and swallowed down the drink in front of him, using the time to think of what to say next. The stupid answer he ended up concocting was “You told me to.”

“And then you showed her?” Jughead glanced towards the bar longingly. “I was drunk.”

“That’s part of the problem Jughead. For godsake take responsibility and stop acting so over the top all the time.”

“She added to it.”

“She also cried over it. and it smelt like she grew a whole weed farm out with her tears. So how far does that matter.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Jughead hissed.

That was the problem though. The main problem. The looming, awful, sickening problem. He did give a shit. He really did.

“Jughead, I’m serious. You made Veronica cry. Hell, I’ve never seen that woman sad let alone.”

He grit his teeth in annoyance, flashes of images showcasing a teary-eyed Veronica flitting before his vision. He’d seen Veronica cry, all at the hand of his red headed friend. He’d seen her cry; seen her breakdown and weep into his shoulder, manicured fingernails digging into his skin as she screamed. He’d seen her completely fall apart. And he’d promised never to do the same to her.

“Don’t ignore me Jughead.”

Jughead raised his eyes to Archie’s slowly, with a deep venom he’d only seen once or twice and almost made him step back in slight alarm. It was the look the dark-haired boy kept for special occasions, and was only really aimed at people who’d completely crossed the line.

Archie frowned back. If looks could kill, this would definitely be it. And the wedding may have to be held off for a little bit.

“Let’s not act like I’m the only one who’s ever made her cry Archie.”

Archie raised his chin, feeling extra brazen with the alcohol in his system. “Let’s not dig up the past Jughead.”

Jughead’s eyes narrowed. “I can recall the exact day, the exact second, that everything you did to her just piled up and broke the dam she’d kept for so long. Snapped. That’s what she did. So let’s not talk about making Veronica upset. She might be a fucking cow, but she’s still human. And some people have done a lot worse than write a bloody list.”

Archie sucked on the inside of his gum as he watched his best mate stalk off to the bar and order a round of shots to himself. Just as he lifted the first one to his head, he threw out “Jughead you’re ruining your life. And Veronica’s.”

Jughead nearly choked, managing to keep all the alcohol in his mouth and swallow before bursting out into laughter. “Archie dude, you’re a joker.” He wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand and shook his head a little.

Archie frowned. “Jughead, I mean it.”

“Fuck off.” He lifted another glass to his mouth and shut his eyes. “Just fuck off.”

Archie’s eye twitched as he was brought back to Pop’s, with Veronica and her red eyes and sloppy makeup, and all his patience ebbed away as he stepped closer to the budding alcoholic.

“No, you fuck off Jughead,” Archie hissed, pulling on Jughead’s bicep and pulling him closer so his mouth was by his ear. “You are a mess, and you need to clean yourself up before you ruin yet another life. We all know you’re not the best with women, but let’s not toss away Veronica like you did with Betty.”

Jughead twinged at the memory and pulled away from the taller guy, refusing to make eye contact. Three more shot glasses stood in Jughead’s peripheral vision, but he could barely process them. The low blow Archie had just let rip made his knees buckle slightly and his heart suddenly felt ten times heavier. “I didn’t do anything to Betty.” He took a deep breath to steady himself but even more emotions were rushing towards him so fast he was losing his balance. He could practically see them, bright lights stabbing at him, knocking him of his breath.

“Go home. Go all the way back to New York in your shit little flat surrounded with debt. I don’t want to see you again until you’re actually fucking stable, because you don’t seem to be all fucking there.” He knocked on Jughead’s temple with his knuckle and Jughead bit his lip, hands curling into fists. “A fucking mess. Sort yourself, it’s pathetic. We all gave you pity when your life was actually shit, stop fucking begging for it already.”

He glared at him again before walking off, going to find Betty, leaving Jughead at the bar on his own. He turned to take another shot, meeting eyes with the bartender. “Fuck you looking at?” he spat, making sure the man had turned away before he downed another one angrily.

He peered around the venue, vision rocking slightly from the tequila making its way through his system, and spotted the toilets, bolting straight to a cubicle and locking himself in. The tears flowed faster than usual, and he blamed it on the alcohol making his liquids more fluid, claiming in his head that it was the wine he’d had earlier. Red wine never got him the good type of drunk anyway. That shit was an emotion potion and nothing more.

It just seemed to prove that everything was too much. And it was worse because he knew this was going to happen. He was expecting this breakdown, tending to himself in a way that he hoped would make it hurt less but it didn’t. He wanted to scream, because in all honesty, everything he was feeling was making his whole body feel like it was on fire. Like he was going to blow up into a million little pieces.

He wanted everything gone. The cubicle felt too small and his clothes too tight and his hair too tickly. His senses were on overdrive, every little thing in contact with his nerves causing him to go into an overstimulated mess so severe he was temporarily deafened by the sound of his Pacinian corpuscles screaming at him to do _something, anything_.

His fingers were digging into his thigh as he stood there, slightly leaning forward, hair over his face. The beanie in his back pocket felt heavier than ever but he couldn’t move to touch it for fear that he’d just break into a thousand pieces, so instead he stood there, taking small laboured breaths and concentrating on the tiled flooring.

The door kept opening and shutting and he fought to stay as quiet as possible so that no one bothered him. Every slam of the door against the wall would startle more tears out of him and he’d draw in a small dumb little gasp before he could get a grip on himself again. He was falling apart constantly; the breaks were so few and far between he didn’t even know what was upsetting him anymore.

It felt like ages before he took in a last deep breath, stabilising himself and rubbing at his face, and then he pushed the door open, feeling more self-conscious not knowing how long he was in the toilets for, and made a straight beeline for the exit, not even going to say bye to Betty first. This town was poison. He needed to leave it before he actually killed himself.

He pushed another door open and stepped into a little quiet corridor and saw a figure, one of the roots to all his misery. Before he could stop himself, his mouth was open, over spilling toxic waste that would’ve honestly caused harm wherever it stayed. In his throat til it burnt him from inside out, or spilling over onto her so it burnt holes into her perfect, tanned skin and deep into her body. Deep into her soul.

“I knew you were the devil incarnate but I didn’t think you’d go off trying to turn my own best friend against me.” He spat.

Veronica turned around, eyes wide until she saw where the voice was coming from, briefly disorientated before she managed to spit back, striking in an almost feline-like manner. “You wrote the stupid list.” She pointed in his direction with as much bitterness as she could muster. “Don’t go blaming your mishaps on me.” She glared.

“I was trying to prove my reasons for not wanting to go to bed with a cow.”

“Well, for starters…”

Jughead bristled, glaring into her wide blown eyes. “Don’t for starters me Veronica. You are ruining my life again. You are turning people against me again. You’re gonna turn me against myself again. What is your fucking deal?” he scowled at her.

“Okay, going round playing the victim, acting like I ruined your life when I saved it by telling you betty cheated on you.”

Jughead’s face went red and Veronica found herself no longer able to look directly into his eyes. They had this look in them, this haunted, sick, painfully sad look that turned her stomach and closed her throat til she started to wonder if she had some sort of rare allergic reaction to her associates emotions. “You do not want to start this again,” he said lowly. “Because you know Betty didn’t cheat on me.” He jabbed her in the chest sharply, his face close to hers. Too close. Even in this situation, Veronica was fighting not to look at his lips. He was angry, and she knew what he was capable of doing when he was angry, especially to her, things that made her arch her back so sharply Jughead’s cheap mattress may still have her silhouette etched into the fabrics. “You know full well but you let everyone else believe it like the vicious little scoundrel you are.”

“You deserved to know the truth.”

“Then you should’ve told the truth. But instead, you fucked up our relationship just because yours and Archie’s was turning sour.”

“We didn’t just turn sour Jughead fucking Jones. He was fucking your girlfriend behind both of our backs and for the love of god you won’t believe it because you think our angel best friends will tell us themselves. But they won’t. Because they’re not angels. They’re ashamed, and they’d much rather us tear each other apart than face up to what they did.” She took in a deep breath. “But go off, fucking weasel.”

“You’re wrong,” he said weakly. “You broke Archie’s heart. Just like how you broke Riverdale. You and your little posse of criminals pushing people out of their houses and onto the road of fucking suicide-”

“No. I’m not.” She took a deep breath and carried on, voice quieter. Her head was killing her, bursting with the pain of her past and the pain of Jughead and the pain of stupidly knowing the risks of mixing drugs and drink and still doing so. “I loved Archie. I might still fucking do. So fuck you and your distrusting ass I don’t need you to believe me anyway. It’d be best if you just went back to LA to drink yourself to death like your dad or something.” The words were hot when they left Veronica’s mouth, rushing out as if they were burning her tongue, but once they were out in the open Veronica wished she could swallow them again. She’d rather her tongue burn clean off, than see Jughead how he was in front of her with a look of loss and uncertainty painted on his features.

That was when something in Jughead snapped. His head felt hot, scorching hot, and empty, and was suddenly conscious that he didn’t have his beanie on. Trust Veronica to open up so many insecurities at once.

“Get away from me,” he said quietly.

“Jughead…I,”

“Fuck off,” he said louder. He was grateful that they were the only people in this corridor. He wasn’t in the mood for an audience. He took a breath and glanced at the floor, Veronica guessed to compose himself. “Looks like your time in New York made you back into that nasty piece of work you tried so hard to discard. Well fucking done.”

He stepped past her, taking a shaky breath in after she was out of earshot, and opening the door out into the rain. He leant on the wall, taking in deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves and the resurfacing memories before he started panicking. He heard the door open again but he didn’t look, instead paying close attention to the reflection of the streetlamps glare in the falling raindrops.

“Jughead I really didn’t mean it,” she started pleading again.

He couldn’t listen to her even if he wanted to, her voice drifting in and out of focus as he listened to his speeding heartbeat and the blood pulsing around his head. His vision was blurring slightly around the edges, the corners of his sight going dark. He took another deep breath, struggling to get the oxygen in, and glanced down to his hands. He couldn’t tell if his hands were trembling or if it was just his sight wavering.

“Are you alright Jughead?” he looked up to see Veronica suddenly, too close and loud in his face, and he jumped, opening his mouth to say something but no noise was coming out.

“Jughead?”

She sounded far away, and his ears felt like they were straining off the sides of his head to understand what she was saying. In his peripheral vision, he saw her run off calling Betty’s name and that was it. Silence, save for the heavy rain, but he couldn’t feel it. All he could feel was sharp tingles on his skin as it suddenly felt too tight, pulling on his limbs as they began to feel really far away and stretched out, and an agonising pain in his throat as the oxygen molecules tried their best to squeeze through the tight gap and keep him alive.

Veronica was back. Everything was red. But her. He was freezing. All he could see was Veronica. All he could feel was Veronica. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“You ruined my life,” he tried to shout, but it came out more as a crazy ramble. “It’s all over and you won’t let me forget it. I know everything is shit now I know. And I know I’m a let-down and I can’t do anything about it now because it’s too late and oh my god I want to die so much because it just won’t stop-”

He was cut off by lips touching his, and for a couple seconds, the feeling was too intense, too sudden, plunging his senses into overdrive for a second time that night, momentarily blacking out his brain, but then it completely overrode all the other feelings and all he could feel was her mouth and the careful rhythm she was steering him into.

He pushed himself towards her, tears springing from his eyes and mixing with the rain on his face, desperate to feel something other than the suffocating panic that was engulfing him five seconds prior. She put a hand on his hard chest, her other hand on his jaw, guiding his face closer to her, and he put his hand on her elbow, channelling every emotion he could get ahold of into the kiss.

She broke away first, gasping for breath, eyes searching his face for any lingering traces of anxiety. He slumped back slightly, suddenly exhausted, watching her watch him and trying to gulp in the oxygen while it was still available to him. It was like Pops, but the roles reversed – this time it was he who needed calming down, and Veronica who was pushing him against the wall gently, mouth on his, trying to ground him, cut off his madness and bring him back to reality. When she was satisfied he’d recovered enough she kissed him again. She could feel his racing heartbeat under her palm, but she didn’t know whether it was a result of the panic attack or the kissing.

Jughead knew there was still residual anxiety, and a whole heap of it too, left in him, but the majority of the actual attack had been flooded out by Veronica. He didn’t understand how it had worked but he bathed in his dulled senses and distraction while he could, knowing that as soon as she left, he’d have to ward off the final nerves by himself and risk him falling straight back into another one.

He squeezed his eyes tight and put his hand behind her head, fingers tangling in her usually perfectly straight hair, licking her lips as permission and revelling in the noises she made as she opened her mouth. They were messy and overzealous and teeth kept clashing, but they both stayed making out in the rain outside of Betty and Archie’s second party, choosing each other over overpriced cake and mature adults any day.

Jughead pulled her closer to him, not a hair width of space between them, and let himself completely melt to her will. He had to give it to her, no one else has ever managed to break him so quickly, but no one has ever managed to put the pieces back moderately correctly in such record timing either. He absolutely succumbed to her touch, desperate for more and more and more.

She might have ruined his life, but she also seemed to be saving it. Somehow, in a roundabout, twisted and confusing kind of way.

He kissed her again, more aware this time, more cautious. His thinking was less clouded and he could process something other than panic or Veronica’s lips, and he abruptly pushed her back, not hard enough for her to fall, but enough to evoke surprise and confusion. His head was still a little sluggish, but he also somehow felt like he was on hyperaware at the same time, to the little details like the lingering pressure Veronica had left on his lips, and the cool drops of rain running along his scalp, and he just stared at her with something close to wild eyes and a frozen stature. He wasn’t really sure how he wanted to or how he needed to handle this situation. He was still trying to figure out what his mind was saying.

“What are you doing?” he asked slowly.

“I was trying to help,” she started. “I thou-”

He stopped listening. With every second passing, her composed words turned into more and more of a futile babble, a babble that he couldn’t hear over the whirring cogs of his own brain.

“You can't just fix me.” It was meant to be a question, but it came out more as a statement, and the finality in his voice startled Veronica into silence for a few seconds before she started babbling again.

“This isn’t a fucking love story Veronica. Sorry to burst your fucking little bubble but you can’t just kiss the fucking illness out of my brain. No ‘enemy turned lover’ is gonna be able to whisk them away like they never existed because the world doesn’t work like that. Stop acting like it does and like I should be cured because of one stupid kiss.”

He took a deep breath. Veronica didn’t say anything for a long time, she just stood there, dumbfounded, and he took another deep breath, no longer feeing angry or anxious or anything. He let himself focus on the sounds of the rain and of Veronica breathing heavily in front of him while her brain fought to find something suitable to say. Her throat felt like it was lined with pines, sore and blocking adequate sound from escaping.

“Two stupid kisses,” she said finally, still slightly breathless. “Or maybe even three I’m not sure. Settle with two and half?” Jughead stared at her for a few moments, face completely blank, before he shook his head slowly, not being able to fight the amusement growing on his face.

Veronica smirked back, but he didn’t miss the hopeful look in her eye. The one that begged she hadn’t stepped over line. That she’d said the right thing.

“I hope you know that’s going right on the list,” he answered.

“You better get a bigger sheet of paper,” she retorted.

“Because you got a whole lot more flaws?”

“Because you’re gonna end up finding a whole lot more flaws,” she answered back, sturdily.

Jughead huffed and rolled his eyes, but the amusement was still there. “We’ll see Lodge,” he said, walking off.

“The door’s this way,” Veronica called, watching the man stalk off away from the building.

His shoulders sagged slightly and she saw a tear track running down his cheek in the street light, but she didn’t know when he’d let that slip, nor why it stood out so brazenly amongst the raindrops on his skin. “Go on inside Ron. Have a good night.”

She opened her mouth to say something else but she couldn’t think of anything, so she just watched him walk straight past his motorbike and stroll off into the night.

She didn’t go back inside for another half an hour. All she could think about was the tear tracks on his cheeks and the fake smile on his face.

And how she was so unbelievably thankful that he didn’t get on that motorbike.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you know where Jughead is Ron?” asked Betty, kind of frantically. “I saw him come in earlier, but that was like two hours ago. Has he gone home? Is he okay? Was he drunk?”

Veronica bit her lip and ducked her head to the side, piling up every emotion behind a wall and looking at Betty’s hand – Betty’s finger – with a blank face. Her façade started to crumble slightly when her eyes landed on the shiny engagement ring, sitting there all dainty and comfortable, thoughts and feelings shooting down to rest at the base of her throat. “I don’t want you to talk to me.”

She didn’t look up to see the questioning frown she knew would be on her best friends face, paired with the dependable “What do you mean Ron?”

Veronica didn’t know whether to be annoyed or not at Betty’s confusion. Of course she wouldn’t know what she was talking about, the moment that her’s and Jughead’s lives fell apart didn’t affect Betty anywhere near as much, and so that memory had no reason for being at the forefront of her brain for the chance it might be needed.

Every memory of Jughead upset suddenly rushed to the forefront of her brain. Despite them being the least close out of the squad of friends, she reckoned she’d seen him cry the most. When him and his dad had fights. When Betty broke up with him. When he saw Betty kiss Archie. When Veronica told him Betty cheated on him. After he’d kissed Toni. When his dad passed. All of these high school occurrences, way too much heartbreak to happen to just one soul. She let a tear slip and a tiny sob fell from her lips. “You. You ruined us both and I know that but he doesn’t believe me. That boy has been through hell and back.”

Her eyes wandered down to Betty’s hand again and the tears doubled. She lifted her friends hand slowly. “we were talking about before, when we were younger. When you-“ she took a deep breath, the memories somehow still sore after all these years. “When I saw you and Archie. In my bed as well, which just makes it all worse. And he doesn’t believe me, never had. And it hurts him. But it hurts me too because he’s the only person I can lean on who knows what I’m feeling and you two won’t even give me the time of day because instead of telling him the truth you’re letting us hash it out like we have nothing better to do. And I need to lean on someone because I’ve been on my own for too long and I’m gonna fall and he’s already fallen.”

“Veronica?” asked Betty, her voice even more concerned at her friends rambling. It was so unlike her, usually so conserved and calm, but here she was, ripping her hand from Betty’s tight grasp and fumbling for words like a little child. She took a step closer to the trembling girl and stared at her. “Are you high?”

“We keep complaining about him but it isn’t even his fault. I took away his happiness but I just wanted him to know the truth and I… I don’t blame him. It’s not like he can turn to any of us. Even his best friend thinks he’s a mess. And he is and…” she trailed off, swallowing hard.

Betty’s frown deepened and she pulled her friend close to her, pulling her head into the crook of her neck and letting her cry it all out. She was trying her hardest to put together everything that Veronica was saying but she couldn’t make sense of it and put it down to nervous intoxicated rambling.

“Betty he just looked so sad today. I think someone should check up on him.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He heard the knock at the door but didn’t bother getting up, or even calling out to whoever it was. He just left them to their own devices, knowing that if the visitor was relevant enough they’d know to check whether the door was unlocked and just walk in. Instead, he shut his eyes at the sound of footsteps, pretending to be asleep and pushed his face into an old, worn cushion.

“Jughead?”

It was the last voice he’d expected, but at the same time, he wasn’t surprised that she was there. He didn’t open his eyes and kept pretending to be asleep, too tired to want to interact with anyone. Especially her.

“Jughead.”

It only just occurred to him after hearing a separate voice that he’d heard two pairs of footsteps come into the room, and when someone whipped the blanket off his body, he guessed that was the point when he should open his eyes and cooperate.

“Did Veronica send you?” he asked, bypassing greetings in mild annoyance.

Archie just stood, serious, as if he was about to reprimand him, but his face was of pure concern. Betty just looked confused, her eyes showing the wide open window into her battling inner conflict.

“Kind of. She was worried about you.”

Jughead scoffed and turned his head so he was facing the sofa, burying his face into the cushions. _So worried that she couldn’t even come and check on him herself_.

“It was true, what she said.” Her cracking voice had an edge to it that Jughead couldn’t place, but it made bile rise in his throat.

“Fuck off,” he said sharply back. “I’m not kidding Betty. Don’t say anything else.”

He felt a sharp pain at the base of his neck as Archie flicked him and took a deep breath. “You too Archie. Leave me alone. If she’s so right, why couldn’t you have told me like 10 years ago?”

He heard Archie sigh then, and mutter something to Betty about giving them a couple minutes. She said she’d wait in the car, and Jughead heard her footsteps disappear, imagining the look of her little heeled pink doll shoes clicking along the dirty, stained linoleum, and could’ve laughed at how different the dynamics were, but he refused to make a sound until he heard the front door shut.

“Jug man, what’s up with you?” came Archie’s voice. It was closer now, so Jughead assumed he’d crouched to his level to talk to him. He could almost feel his breath on the nape of his neck. He just wanted his beanie back on to stop the guy from doing what he did best and crawling into his skin.

He knew Archie had some sort of clue about what his problem was. He wouldn’t be his best mate if he didn’t, and he’d been there with Jughead through thick and thin and quite honestly, seen things that Jughead didn’t want him to, but he supposed he was giving his friend a chance to say something himself instead in his own words. Archie may be a little thick on the occasion, but he knew Jughead better than he knew himself.

“What time is it?” Jughead asked, completely deflecting from the question. He could imagine Archie’s frown and shake of the head, but he answered him anyway.

“Half 2. Am.”

That got Jughead looking up, turning his head to face his friend and show him the utterly incredulous look painted on his face. “And you came here why?”

“We heard you were upset Jug. And quite frankly, I was worried that you’d fallen low again.”

Jughead tensed and the muscles in his jaw twitched. “No one knows about that still, do they?”

Archie shook his head. “Not as far as I know. But Jug, you’re not yourself. I know Riverdale isn’t your dream place to be-” he got cut off by a harsh, mean laugh from his companion but continued with minimal hesitation. “But it seems like everything is falling apart around you. Talk to me man. I know basically everything anyway.”

“Veronica is the main problem this time, but you don’t know about that.”

Archie nodded slowly. “Actually…” Jughead’s head whipped around again at the hesitation in Archie’s voice. “It’s not Veronica’s fault. You know who’s it is. I’m not sure where she is now, she kind of just slapped Betty and left.”

Archie looked uncomfortable, and Jughead guessed it was because he was a part of the problem and if this news hadn’t have come out, it isn’t clear who would have won Betty’s heart over in the end. He gave him a small smile and shrugged one shoulder. It was an attempt to clear the waters between them, which did work to an extent, as Archie’s red face cracked into a small friendly smile too, and he put a hand on Jughead’s shoulder. It didn’t need to be vocalised just yet, wounds still too sore.

“She’s uprooted a lot of memories. Made me think about things I’ve been trying to forget. Made me remember things I’ve been trying to forget.” He swallowed dryly, cutting himself off before he mentioned too much. Archie just sat quiet, not interrupting. “She said I was gonna end up like my dad. In not so many words. Said I was gonna drink myself to death, and I’m still trying to figure out how literal she meant for me to take it.” he broke eye contact with Archie soon as he started talking again.

“She did what?” his voice was tight; insinuated that this was new news to him, so Jughead just nodded.

“I’m gonna kill her.”

“Don't bother. I said some unthinkables too." He paused. "My old man wasn’t such a bad person.” He still refused to make eye contact, not really ready to face the look Archie would surely have on his face, a mixture of pity and doubt, but he hadn’t spoken to anyone about his father since the funeral, which in itself was a pathetic excuse for an event because no one had any money to pay for a decent service and not much of the town was too fond of the guy either. “I mean, I know he knocked me about a bit, but alcohol did that to him. Alcohol and grief. We lost half our family Arch, and he knew it was his fault; he was angry.”

“Didn’t mean he should’ve taken it out on you.”

“He was drunk.”

“A drunk man’s words are a sober one’s thoughts Jug. You know this.” He does know this. His mind drifted to Veronica and drunken kisses in the rain. His sobriety concealed everything.

“I don’t wanna end up like him. But this town makes it hard for me to anything right.”

Archie nodded, looking at him. he was anticipating this, knowing that this town only made Jughead into a train wreck. “Let’s get you out of here then. Need help packing?”

Jughead had honestly never been more grateful for Archie, because at the rate his mental stability was declining, by the time it was check out he figured he’d have just about enough energy to roll out of bed and leave all his belongings to get chucked. Packing sounded like the least appealing thing ever right now.

His phone lit up next to him and he picked it up. Archie was on the other side of the room, busying himself with folding and packing Jughead's clothes, and so didn't see his brows furrow fleetingly as he read the unknown number above the text message notification. He opened it, skimming over what she'd written.

'Sorry I didn't come and see you. I figured that you might've wanted peace, or just that you simply didn't want to see me, which is obviously understandable, but I tend to make the wrong decisions a lot of the time, and if this was one of those cases, feel free to add it to the list x'

Veronica Lodge. He hated the fact that this was making him smile, but it did. He smiled so much it hurt.

“Did Veronica say anything else?” asked Archie carefully as he folded up a top off the floor. Jughead looked up quickly as if somehow Archie knew what was going on, but the ginger haired boy was still looking down at what he was doing. The raven haired boy paused for a second and sat himself down on the side of the bed in sheer exhaustion. He wanted to hate Archie, wanted to hate him with a blinding white light but he just couldn’t. He wanted to hate Veronica for showing him the truth, but somehow, that was even harder. He hated Betty, but that in a way was easier. Betty was his ex, he was supposed to hate her, but Archie was his brother and it took energy to have genuinely angry feelings towards someone so…Archie. And Veronica...well, so much had happened in the past couple days he could write a book series on the flutter of his heart at the mention of her name and the way his mouth would uninvitingly turn up at the corners. “All manner of things pal." he said with a chuckle. "I drowned most of it out.” That was a blatant lie. He'd hung onto every word that Veronica let spill from her burgundy coloured lips and those same words were still swirling around in his head now, too treasured for Jughead to let himself forget them. He smiled softly again. His life would've been a lot easier if he had indeed drowned out what she was saying, but she was a perplexing character. And it was so hard to ignore the rich words of such a beautiful enigma


End file.
